


Too Old

by d_aia



Series: Segments [6]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, M/M, Mentions of M and Q, POV George, POV Outsider, POV Third Person, Small Crossover with James Bond (Craig Movies), Surprise Character from the Interrogation Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been years, about six, since Mr. Gary Unwin, or Eggsy as he called himself, stood in front of George. The years have been tough on George, and not so bad to Unwin. That was perfectly in agreement with George’s luck. Unwin looked… happy, fulfilled, and successful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Old

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the movie (and characters, locations, personal histories etc as are shown in it).This is the work of fanfiction. 
> 
> Warnings: Violence; Victims and Victim Recovery.
> 
> Last Time on Segments: (Make Him Proud:) Harry lives and Eggsy finally finds out after eight months. Merlin is a paranoid bastard, though he has his reasons and Eggsy's chip on the shoulder may be more justified than Merlin initially thought. Also, Roxy fails to complete a mission, through no fault of her own, and that doesn't make her any less of a badass.
> 
> (Deep Waters:) Roxy's dad was with Valentine, but didn't send her a memo and Roxy's next mission is to arrange it so a young billionaire is a friend for Kingsman. Arthur thinks that Kingsman needs a psychologist (with Merlin's support) and they both worry about Eggsy and a possible hack. Eggsy, for his part, has trust issues.
> 
> (Unknowingly:) Roxy deals with: her father's behavior, betrayal within Kingsman and a new asset (Asha).
> 
> (Pirate:) Eggsy had a less than stellar childhood. Roxy and he bond. And Arthur and Eggsy finally talk.
> 
> (East:) Kingsman Agents talk. 
> 
> Thank you Alexandra and [red-wasabi89](http://red-wasabi89.tumblr.com/) for letting me bore you with my ideas and thoughts! Also, I owe a big thank you to the people who left kudos or comments! It's most definitely appreciated. This is it: the epilogue! It has been a long and satisfying journey. Thank you for everything!

It has been years, about six, since Mr. Gary Unwin, or Eggsy as he called himself, stood in front of George. The years have been tough on George, and not so bad to Unwin. That was perfectly in agreement with George’s luck. Unwin looked… happy, fulfilled, and successful.

“Here you are again,” George said. He had the feeling that this Unwin wouldn’t be as easily intimidated. Plus, it didn’t work last time either, but George had to try _something_.

Unwin’s own mother had reported his suspicious activities out of fear for her daughter, and concern for him. They hadn’t been able to pin on him any criminal activity, but he was linked to some major money a couple of years ago. Which they supposed to be the beginning of his transition from being a criminal to having some on payroll, but had been just fine as far as resources were concerned for about three years before that. Added to that, his mother's testimony was compelling: of injuries that were never treated in a hospital, the luxurious trips he sent her on, and the strange men that were around from time to time.

So, there George was, trying to break the wall that was Unwin with a feather, which was what the evidence amounted to. They had no idea what he was mixed in. Hell, for all George knew, he found a sugar daddy. He was certainly good-looking enough, and sort of fit with the handsome man that somehow got him out last time. But, his mother had become more and more concerned, and feared for her safety, so they had brought him in. Hoping and praying to get something out of him. For the record, it wasn’t George’s idea.

Unwin didn’t say anything, just offered George a cheeky grin.

“While I congratulate you on managing to stay out of trouble, or maybe under our radar, for years, here we are again,” George said with a smile. It felt fake, and probably looked it too, but he wasn’t an actor.

“You called, I came,” Unwin said. He smiled innocently. Worse, the fucker was believable too.

George had heard a lot about expensive suits, but he didn’t see any. Unwin was dressed in red, long sleeve T-shirt, and a pair of dark jeans, tucked into heavy army boots. They were expensive, but not compared to what he had on last time. If this was a family thing, George was going to yell at somebody. Probably Mrs. Unwin.

George was holding on to his calm by the skin of his teeth. “We had reasons for calling you.”

“You maybe want to explain why I am here then.” Unwin was obviously having fun as evidenced by the battling of eyelashes. He also grinned like he knew something he didn’t, and it was driving George bonkers.

“I'll tell you why you’re here,” George said, leaning over the table. “You are he—”  

George was interrupted by a knock at the door. He had a feeling he knew this song. Two very annoyed knocks followed. He glared at Unwin, Unwin beamed back.

“I think that’s for you,” Unwin observed, leaning back with the same smug grin.

George sighed, annoyed, as he made his way to the door.

“Boss wants to see you,” Richards announced, wincing.

George hummed.

“In his office?” George asked.

“That’s where I saw him las—”

“Davies!” Carleigh thundered.

Richards closed his eyes. “Obviously, he moved,” he added.

George moved into the hallway.

“Do you know who you have in there?” whisper-shouted Carleigh.

George sighed deeply. “Let’s go with no.”

Carleigh blinked. “Well, I don’t know either.” The odd shapes he formed with his mouth showed him confused, but he quickly seemed to catch his second wind. “But the PM is very annoyed.”

“Granted, that’s the PM's usual mood,” Unwin said, having vacated the interview room.

“MI5 also called,” Carleigh said, with a smile so fake, it looked painted on.

Unwin grinned. “Good chaps.”

“And MI6,” Carleigh added. “Twice. One was M saying that it’s in our best interests to release Unwin immediately, and the other was Q saying that Unwin is a _personal friend_.”

“Awww, Q!” Unwin cooed.

“Then Interpol called,” Carleigh continued in between clenched teeth. “ They said that as we don’t have an army to _try_ to hold him, we might as well let him go.”

Unwin made a noise in the back of his throat, eyes narrowed, but his general demeanor was amused.

“Now, Mr. Unwin's liaison and sister, along with his dear friend, have come to see that he's okay,” Carleigh said, making an expansive gesture toward his office, where a truly gorgeous woman looked on amused. She was wearing one of the famous suits, like the ones George had heard about. Next to her, another gorgeous woman, more casually dressed, waved at Unwin.

“Liaison from what?” George asked, dumbfounded. “For what? And why did his friend came in?”

“That’s Asha,” Unwin said. “Hey, Asha.” He waved back. “That’s Ms. Ster to you.”

Carleigh and George paled. Ms. Ster's money made her well known. “Don’t ask, don’t know, don’t care… Fix it!” Carleigh snapped quietly.

George hated his day already.

“I was acting on specific information, but I now see that it has all been some sort of misunderstanding, for which, of course, I apologize,” George said as politely as possible.

Unwin body posture shifted, going from languid to predatory. “Whose information would you trust without evidence?” He looked upset enough that George thought he already knew the answer.  

“How do you know we don’t have any?” George baited.

“There is none to be had,” Unwin said, his blue eyes focused on George. “Because I didn’t do anything illegal.”

Right. George didn’t believe that for one second. But he did believe that Unwin walked that fine line where his actions were permitted by the circumstances and several governments, including their own. Unwin was obviously mixed with some serious players involved in the country’s protection. Even when it didn’t shed any light on Unwin's precise activities, it served as a indicator to their direction and it made for a great explanation—out fighting the good fight.

“Your mother was concerned for your sister's safety,” George said calmly.

“That’s rich,” spat Unwin, in a unprecedented display of true emotion.  

George was taken aback. “Why?”

Unwin rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. And his eyes refused to meet George’s. And Unwin’s feet shuffled. And he swallowed. Bloody hell, George was dealing with the victim. It happened, of course it did, but he would never had foreseen this particular situation.

“Let’s go in the break room. Do you want a coffee, perhaps some tea?” George asked awkwardly.  

Richards and Carleigh looked at George like he was bonkers, but he manfully ignored them. He had made a mistake, certainly, but he wasn’t a police officer because he wanted people to suffer. If he had to step on his pride to make sure that nobody would, then it had to be done.

Unwin's sharp grin gentled. “I’m afraid that I’m a busy man.” His eyes glided over to the side, and he moved his hands to his side. “But maybe I could come another time?”

George swallowed an astonished noise. That went surprisingly easy. Especially with how Unwin had reacted the last time he was supposed to share information.

“Of course,” George said, and extended his hand for a healthy shake. “Let me get you a card.”

In a flash, George saw Unwin’s head snap up, and the next thing he knew, he was belly down on the floor, behind a desk, the backs of his knees aching. Two thumps later, so we’re Richards and Carleigh. Almost immediately after, some nut started shooting.

“Yes, Hermes, I do in fact hear the shots, as I'm much closer to them,” whispered Unwin. “Five guys, about my height, well built, ski masks, all white.”

Unwin was silent for a few moments. Either he was mental, or he was able to communicate with somebody else. George's money were on the latter.

“How would I know what they want?” Unwin asked. “Lancelot’s here, so get in touch with Merlin. No, I can’t talk to her.” Unwin paused. “I’ll tell you more when I know. Keep me posted.”

George blinked and tried to keep up. “Help coming?”

Unwin smiled and shook his head. “Can I borrow your gun? Or _a_ gun?”

“Are you going to shoot something?” George inquired wryly.

“Probably somebody,” Unwin replied.

George felt a headache coming. “That’s—that's not comforting.”

“I have experience.”

“I could tell,” George dryly said.

“I’ll even do it with as few casualties as possible.”

“That sounds like something you say as an explanation, not something you set as a goal.”

Unwin took a deep breath. “Please?” he tried.

George’s jaw clenched for a several seconds. “You better be as good as everybody thinks you are,” he snapped, and handed over his gun.

Richards and Carleigh were watching George, looking about as convinced that he was insane as a person can.

“Thanks, guv!” Unwin winked.

George felt the overwhelming need to redirect his gaze, saw the other two, and shrugged helplessly.

Unwin checked the safety and tucked the gun into the waistband of his trousers. He made sure that it was covered by tee, and then untucked the jeans from his left boot. He pushed them up until a knife holster was visible.

Glancing at George's amazed expression, Unwin offered a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know what you wanted,” he said, like that was in any way an acceptable explanation.

Unwin took an impressive-sized, thin-bladed knife out, and lodged it, along with its sheath, at the back of his boot. The handle stuck out. He rolled his trousers back down, but still raised high enough for easy access to the knife, and since they were so dark, they also did a decent job of hiding the black handle.

“Let’s see what they want,” Unwin announced, and just like that he sat up. “What do you want?” he shouted.

Five guns were aimed in his direction, giving an amazing opportunity for anybody else to take a shot. Only nobody did. There was something to be said about not willing to bring armed conflict into a crowded place, but George still felt a little embarrassed on behalf of them all.

“We want access to the evidence locker,” one of them gruffly said.

“I see that you have the other thing already,” Unwin’s sister said, stepping out of the office and surprising the gunmen into dividing their attention between two targets in opposite positions. “Access to the police network.”

“Do you have the key to the locker?” another gunman, the one further down left, asked her.

“Me?” she asked innocently.  “I’m just his sister.”  She gestured towards Unwin to show who she meant.

One of the gunmen—George had officially given up on setting them apart—snorted.

“No, you're not,” he said.

“Rufus,” Unwin sang, a smirk firmly in place.

“Haven’t heard from you in quite a while,” Unwin’s not-sister said, taking a step closer.

Unwin got closer to the gunmen. “And you’re wrong, you know. We are better than brothers nowadays. Which you’d have known, if you'd… _stuck_ around.”

“Then again,” Unwin’s not-sister said, swaying forwards. “ _Patience_ is not your strong suit.”

That was the moment that Unwin made his move. He had gotten out the gun somewhere in the two seconds nobody was paying attention to him. The moment the young woman finished her sentence, he shot the closest gunman in the leg. He fell, and Unwin got another one in the foot. As the gunmen redirected their attention on Unwin, the women easily snapped her foot up in another man's temple, rendering him immediately unconscious. She took a step forward, and punched the one called Rufus, only for her arm to be skillfully diverted. The two started fighting in earnest.

Meanwhile doing something—George wasn’t paying attention—that left the remaining man unconscious, Unwin started to get their guns and assorted weapons.  As Rufus and the woman fought, fiercely and almost acrobatically at times, Unwin looked like nothing particularly notable was happening while he continued to check for knifes and grenades. The bugger started whistling at one point.

Finally, with a series of punches and kicks, the woman created enough distance between her and Rufus to be able to launch at Unwin. He continued to look unfazed, but turned his leg slightly. Her target was actually Unwin’s knife, which she got in the nick of time. Just as Rufus was reaching for his gun, the knife buried into his hand.

“Good throw, Rox!” Unwin gushed, then was back to his task.

Rox pushed up from the ground. It looked unexpectedly intimidating. She took exactly three steps to get to Rufus, her eyes narrowed. “ _You_ ,” she said, voice calm and deadly. At that point, the kick to the head was superfluous.

Rox smiled, suddenly innocent-looking, and George shuddered.

“Thank you, bruv,” Rox said, the slang sounding odd coming from her, but not unfamiliar.

There was silence after that, while everybody was finding their feet. Most people were keeping their distance from the two, trying to make sense of the last five minutes. George was just getting up, moving to offer Carleigh a hand, when a short metallic noise was heard. Everybody was down once again. It took George a few seconds to understand what the noise had been: it was a grate from the air vent, that had fallen from the ceiling in the corner of the office.

“Is everything over?” a woman’s voice asked from within the depths of their air filtration system.

Rox smiled, and said, “We’re okay, Asha.”

“How did you get in there?” Richards asked, heading to the corner and looking up into the vent. “Why did you get in there?”

“Okay, one: easily. And two, it seemed like the logical choice. Why didn’t you?” And without waiting for an answer, not that one was forthcoming anyway, Ms. Ster added, “Help me down, will ya?”

“Yes ma'am,” Richards answered obediently.

“Harry!” Unwin said delightedly. “You big worrywart!”

And somehow, without George having seen or heard him, Unwin’s benefactor was in the office.

“Eggsy,” the man, Harry, said as dignified as possible after that introduction. “Glad to see everyone is doing well.”

Unwin bounced, he _bounced_ , to Harry, and gave him a peck on the lips. Apparently, George wasn’t completely wrong. Only about the important parts.

“And I came for slightly different reason,” Harry said lightly. “Wasn’t expecting all the excitement. Rufus, is he?”

Unwin made a flapping gesture that managed to convey his contempt at the situation. “Rox is handling it. Anyway, Hermes talked.”

“He mentioned that you might be thinking about it. I find myself relieved the that you decided to be frank about your mother,” Harry said quietly.

“It was time,” Unwin whispered.

He put a hand under Unwin's chin, meeting his eyes. “You are doing the right thing.”

Unwin didn’t say anything, but he buried his face in the man's chest. When Harry brought up his arms in an embrace, Unwin sank into it without a sound. And there they remained, as if the moaning of the men on the ground was background music.

George started laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


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